


Grief.

by casualhades



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Anger, Angst, F/M, Gorillaz - Freeform, Grief, Loss, Murdoc Niccals - Freeform, One Shot, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualhades/pseuds/casualhades
Summary: Murdoc finally gets the call informing him that his father has passed. Torn between his lover's distance and his resentment for his father, he melts down.





	Grief.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a weird experience I had. Just felt appropriate to write it out here.   
> Murdoc isn't mine, obviously.

My eyes widened in disbelief. I couldn't decide if I was elated or entirely destroyed. I looked to my girlfriend who sat on her phone a few feet from me.   
"I'm sorry, Mr. Niccals, but your father has died." The monotone voice said into the other side.   
"I.. really?" I asked, my voice quiet. I feel a shift in the couch next to me as she gets up and walks off.   
I hang the phone up not long after, staring across the room. I felt free, but my chest caved in. My stomach turned in fast moving knots, my heart hammering in my ears. She's still not back yet. I wonder what she's doing.   
I manage to pry myself from the couch and light a cigarette for the journey. I meander through a few rooms before I find her in the washroom, putting makeup on.   
"Oi, what're you doin'?" I ask her. She hasn't even heard yet. At least I don't think.   
"Going out, a few of the girls texted me and said they were going to someone's house for a party. I figured I'd go." She said, not once looking away from the mirror or at me at all. I felt my blood start to boil.   
"Well.. someone's just rung to inform me that my father's died." I said, the words sounding much heavier out loud.   
"Oh. I'm sorry." She says, turning to me. Her eyeliner was winged out and her lips were freshly tinted red. I took a step closer to her, attempting to embrace her, but she moved away from me.   
"Murd, I need the mirror. I'm gonna be late." She said flatly, staring at me.   
"The... mirror?" My words stumbled together, my entire being felt as if it were engulfed in flames. My chest felt like a cavernous pit. My father was a fucking piece of shit, abusive and daunting, but my father nonetheless. I wondered if they had called Hannibal yet.   
My head started to swim, and I turned to leave the bathroom, not caring to speak to her any more. She had made it abundantly clear she had no interest in any fucking thing aside from her friends and this 'party'. She didn't even like parties.   
She was younger, by much. She was in college, and at the start of the semesters for the last few years she would become more distant and focus more on some bogus sorority she had joined. I encouraged her, imploring she find a stable group of friends for when I was out touring, not wanting her to be alone. But it consumed her. In the off times, she would complain. The dues, the girls, the parties, the meetings. She would tell me it was all too much for her. I would listen to her wax poetic for hours on any subject. But she never seemed to listen to me anymore.   
It fueled my rage, the deep burning hatred I had done my best to extinguish for her. For our love. I had settled down, no more women through my bed and out the next day. I had chosen her, dialed down my lifestyle, and for what?   
I sat on the couch, my head in my hands.   
A few minutes later she would return, dolled up, checking her purse for her phone and her car keys, as she always did. She looked up at me.   
"Right, I'll be back later then. Love you." She said, heading for the door.   
"Don't come back." I said, staring at the floor.   
"What?" She stopped.   
"Don't. Come. Back." I repeated.   
"What the fuck did I do?" She would get defensive, taking a few steps closer.   
"I've just lost my father and you're so sodding busy with this stupid fucking children's club that you supposedly hate, you can't even throw me a fake condolence? I don't need you. I haven't needed you. I settled for you and stopped my whole fucking life for you. And this is what I get? Fuck you, get out of my sight." I hissed, on my feet now. She shrunk back, her eyes watering.   
"Murdoc I was just-"   
"SPARE ME, FOR THE LOVE OF SATAN REMOVE YOURSELF FROM MY FUCKING SIGHT. I'LL HAVE YOUR SHIT SET OUT IN BIN BAGS. LEAVE ME. NOW!" I screamed, my voice hoarse with grief. She would turn and leave me, closing the door softly behind her.   
I kicked the coffee table in front of me, sending it into the tv. I picked the tv up, tossing it out the window to the balcony. The bookshelves, the cabinets, the dishes. Everything. Fuck it.   
I hated it. Anything in my way, whatever it was, I didn't give a fuck, I wanted it to feel how I did. Walls, paintings, records. I didn't fucking care. She didn't care. I was alone. She didn't care about me at all. And it fucking burned me. I hated her. All I wanted was for her to be happy and it seemed I couldn't even get that right. I loved her. I loved her so much. But she didn't love me.   
She couldn't.   
Nobody could. I was hideous, inside and out, a rotting case of a man since sold his soul. Foul, fetid. Worthless. I didn't even deserve to be here.   
I collapsed back to the couch, the now destroyed living room under me. The room reeled and spun, the colors of the wreckage bled together. My hands ached dully, throbbing in time to my heart, which felt like it would either crumble or burst from my chest. My eyes stung, but I would never allow myself the comfort of crying.   
My father, dead. About fucking time but why? Why did I feel sorrow? Why did I want comfort? Why did it even matter?   
I shook myself from my semi conscious state and walked straight to the bedroom. I grabbed El Diablo, a few books, my cigarettes, and I was gone. I left my key to the apartment on the table and left, the house in ruin. She could deal with that since she chose not to deal with me.   
I didn't need her.   
I didn't need anyone.   
I would work this out on my own, as I always had before.


End file.
